Hunting (Supernatural AUs)
by thebooknerdian
Summary: Random stories for each chapter of hunts in an AU with the Winchesters. It's my first non-insert, so please share your thoughts on it and tell me if it sucks or not! Rated T for violence, and swearing. It is still Supernatural after all. Updates may range from 1 time to 3 times a month because it took awhile to write the first chapter. Usually only Sam and Dean, occasionally Cas.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This will be the first chapter of some random Supernatural hunts I thought up. I always admired the kind of sarcasm demons had, so I decided to make some demons (OCs? Characters? Just names? I dunno!) of my own and make some fan fiction. So, let's get this show on the road! Most ofthe hunts'll probably just be Sam and Dean, but maybe once in a while I'll include Castiel? I'm only on season 5, gimme a break, haha! Also, I do not own Supernatural or the characters Sam or Dean Winchester. They belong to Eric Kripke.**

* * *

 **A GIRL IN WHITE**

 **"** I don't know Sammy," Dean said. "It doesn't really sound like a case to me. People kill themselves all the time." As soon as he sound it, he had to admit, it sounded pretty harsh.

"Shouldn't we at least check it out Dean?" Sam asked. "It sounds pretty odd to me."

"How so?" Dean's eyes flicked from the road to Sam every few minutes as he drove the Impala, just like usual.

"I did some research a -"

"Surprise, surprise."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. "And appearently she never showed signs of suicidal thoughts or even depression. Always happy, always lively."

"You think something drove her over the edge?" His brother asked.

"Yeah, actually," he answered. "Mother died the same way, but she was depressed. And you know what happened? It was probably the case of her telling her daughter to join her. Same thing happened every year since 2006 in the same house."

Dean shook his head slightly. "Where to then?"

"New York City."

"This better be worth it then," Dean said, giving Sam a look. "Because I am _not_ driving Baby through that city with no good reason."

* * *

 **FLASHBACK**

* * *

 _Marelda was crying. Again. Sitting on her bed's edge, grasping a photograph of her late mother tightly, sobs shaking her rather small 16 year old self. Just like last night, no one noticing it and no one thinking it._

 _She knew it wasn't right to still be greiving. Her mother died almost three years ago, so why be sad now? Because she had to. Marelda saw her mother almost every night and it'd been going for months. She'd sit there and cry while her mother held her close to her, her skin now pale and her entire aura more fragile than ever before. It pained her to see her beautiful mother that way - and it to see it every night was scary._

 _Tonight, her mom spoke to her._

 _"Mary," her mother's soft, fragile voice seemed to fade into the silence as she ended each word, bringing nostolgic aromas and memories to the surface of Marelda's mind. "Don't cry over me."_

 _"B-but I miss you. So mu-uch," came the reply of her frightened daughter._

 _"And I miss you," she replied. "But you can join me. Come to me and stay with me forever."_

 _"W-What?" Marelda looked up at her mother, a sad sense of hope burning in her eyes. "How?"_

 _"Go to the kitchen and open the drawer with the knives," her mother instructed, eyes soft and caring and reassuring just like they had always been. "And cut yourself. Up and down your arms, both of them. All this pain will end, I promise baby."_

 _"O-Okay."_

* * *

"I found her on the kitchen floor," Mr. Stevens informed Sam and Dean. "Her arms were cut, pretty deep, nd they went up and down. Almost... _identical._ "

They'd made it to New York, not been mugged yet, and started to talk to the family members of the victim. "Identical?" Sam repeated.

"I know it was the same knife," Mr. Stevens said. "But...they were just...identical. Same depth. Same positions. Like it'd been photocopied onto Marelda. Why do the Feds care anyways? It was just suicide."

"We think it was something else, Mr. Stevens," Dean offered as an excuse.

"Do you know if anything, I don't know, _changed_ about your daughter before it happened? Mood, eyes, disposition?" Sam questioned.

"She was 16, she changed everyday."

"Funny," Dean said sarcastically. "But we mean _changed_ as in being more aggressive or apprehensive or...just a drastic change in anything?"

"No. She was perfectly normal. I don't know how she hid something like that for so long," Mr. Stevens spoke. "Depression didn't seem like even a possibility for her. She always... _happy._ "

"Is there anything that happened around the house or her life that was abnormal?" This one came from Sam.

"There was this weird smell coming her from room and from the kitchen, but nothing else. Are you suggesting someone _murdered_ my daughter?"

"Anything is possible, Mr. Stevens," Dean answered. "I think that's all we need?" He asked Sam.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "Thank you for your time, sir."

They both walked out the door and back to the Impala. Dean loosened his tie as soon as they got in and looked at Sam.

"I think that theory was right Sammy," he said. "Sounds like the mom did it. And I don't think it was her mom."

* * *

"Find anything yet?" Dean asked, plopping on the crappy motel bed.

"No, but it'd sure be helpful if _someone_ got off their ass and actually did some research himself," Sam said, slightly bitter.

"I am doing something!" Dean protested. "I'm..." - thinking for moment - "I'm going to get us food."

"Then what's in the bag you just brought in?"

Dean hesitated for a moment before replying. "Nothing Sammy." He then proceeded to shove it behind the pillows.

Sam sighed as he went back to working and Dean went out the door after grabbing the keys to Baby. He had a pretty good guess what his brother had brought back to the motel, but honestly, it didn't really matter to him that much. Research was the main focus at the moment.

* * *

Dean opened the door to motel and walked in, now sitting a bag of take out food in front of Sam. His brother looked up from the laptop and sighed a bit.

" _That_ place _again_?" Sam complained.

"Hey," Dean paused to pull out the fake credit card he used to pay for the food with. "Allan - oo, that's a hard one - Inte-Intre-In-"

"Don't strain yourself, Dean."

"Shut up," he replied. "This guy paid for it."

Sam couldn't help but smile a little and shake his head, taking out some of the food.

"Besides," Dean muttered under his breathe. "It's better than what you like at least."

* * *

After coming to the conclusion that it'd just be the regular - salt and burn - they asked where the mom's grave was.

"Um, she was cremated," Mr. Stevens answered. "Why would that matter to you anyways?"

"It just does," Sam told him. "Do you have anything of hers? Hair, locket, belonging?"

"I still have her old books and writing."

"We'll need all of that, sir," Dean said. "As soon as you can. Right now would be even better, too."

"O-Of course, agents," Mr. Stevens replied, getting up from his seat to go get the books of his wife's belongings.

"So," Dean turned to Sam once the man left the room. "Light the books and it's solved?"

"As far as I can tell," Sam said.

"Reassuring as always Sammy."

* * *

"This seems too easy," Dean commented.

"A little," Sam agreed, watching the flames eating up the boxes.

* * *

After the boxes were burned and a week had passed with no similar or weird deaths, they left for the next gig.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I hope you liked it I know it's really bad but it took weeks to get the ideas and motivation to continue it once I started writing. In that case, a new chapter should be up at least twice a month if the same thing continues with each one. Thanks so much for reading!**


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